


Bloody Porcelain

by apollojolras



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, this one is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollojolras/pseuds/apollojolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian was sitting curled up on the floor across the room, looking at him with tired eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this ended up a bit longer than I expected.

Jim shivered, pulling his suit jacket tighter around his shoulders.  _Bloody freezing here_ , he thought bitterly. He hated London. He hated that he had to come back here. Everything about the city repulsed him. _Well,_ he thought, _everything except one_. It had been nearly three years since he had enjoyed a cup of tea in the world’s only consulting detective’s flat, three years since he had ended the careers of over half of Scotland Yard’s finest, three years since he had shot himself on the roof of St. Bart’s; to solve the problem, to win the game, to murder Sherlock Holmes.

He had gone away for a while, escaping his criminal empire to let the world believe that he was dead, that he didn’t exist, that Moriarty was a fake, and that London’s own guardian angel, the great bloody Sherlock Holmes, was nothing but a pathetic excuse for a man. A man clever enough to invent a perfect villain, brave enough to play the hero, cowardly enough to fall to his death. The name _Moriarty_ didn't mean anything anymore, just a symbol of a man who never existed, who was created by a cruel man’s fantasies, who died on the roof of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. People in the city spit on the name of Sherlock Holmes, and still christen him as a fraud and a fake much to Jim’s delight. The man drove Richard Brook to suicide after all, probably forced him to do it at gunpoint, _the bastard_ , and then decided to take a walk off a rooftop. Jim’s face twisted into a smile. 

_I won._

 

oOo

 

He looked up at the block of flats after rounding the corner, glaring up at the offending building.  _Why the hell does Sebastian still live in this God awful place?_  

Before Jim had gone away, Sebastian had spent most of his time either with Jim or at Jim’s flat, and he just hadn't bothered to move the rest of his things out of this hole in the wall. Sebastian clearly hadn't been at Jim's in a while or the estate, so he had been forced to come and fetch him from this place. He smiled, imagining how well the whole _Hey, I'm not dead!_  conversation would go over. He glanced at his watch. 11:48. He might be awake. The key felt cold in his hand as he buried it into the lock and kicked the door open.

“Sebastian!”

 

Silence. Jim frowned into the dark room. He crossed the flat to the hallway and opened the bedroom door. He quietly padded over to the bed, reaching out to touch the empty sheets.  _What the hell...?_ He retreated slightly, and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Jim was suddenly flying backwards, crying out in alarm as he slammed into the wall, hitting his head. _Hard_. He blinked a few times, gasping for air and staring straight into Sebastian’s wild eyes in shock. The other man looked, well,   _wrong_ , his eyes burning with no recognition in them.  _Oh God,_  he thought. For the first time in a long time, he was  _terrified._  He slowly lifted his chin, his gaze moving down to Sebastian’s mouth, twisted into a snarl, and then back up to his eyes. He forgot how to speak.

His breathing became ragged and constricted; hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he began to cough, and he started to panic. His mind was screaming at him to get away,  _get away from Sebastian,_  but he couldn't move. He blinked again as spots began to swim across his vision, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Jim swallowed, painfully, deliberately, and closed his eyes when the rough hand that was wrapped bruisingly tight around his throat reflexively squeezed harder. Crushing his windpipe. The only thing he could manage to think before he passed out was  _It’s good to see you, Tyger._

 

oOo

 

When Jim woke up, he was expecting to have a coughing attack, or feel bruises on this throat, or have to catch his breath. What it felt like to be hung, or choked to death. But he felt fine. He jerked upright, hands flying to his neck. He wasn't hurt, his throat didn't even feel sore.  _What the fuck?_ He rubbed his eyes, groaning as apparently what _did_ hurt was his brain, a headache beginning to stab at the back of his head.

 

“Hey.”

His head snapped around at the sound of the soft voice in the quiet room. He hissed in pain, his hand raised to hold his aching skull. Sebastian was sitting curled up on the floor across the room, looking at him with tired eyes. _Jesus Christ, h_ _e looks like shit._  But, come to think of it, it wasn't really all that surprising. The other man looked exactly how he remembered him from three years ago, and he doubted that Seb had taken good care of himself in Jim’s absence. When he had mustered the strength to speak, he glared at Sebastian.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“I’m sorry?” Came a confused reply.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Seb. You attacked me last night.”

“What?”

Jim sighed, shaking his head. _Fucking idiot._  “Never mind, you bastard. Come here.”

Sebastian stood up and crossed the room slowly, warily.

“Oh stop it, I’m not going to hurt you.” he said, irritated. He grabbed Sebastian’s arm and pulled him down to sit next to him on the bed. He pulled Seb's collar close to him, smirking, and kissed him, chaste but sweet. Sebastian’s lips quirked into a small smile as Jim pulled away.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice still soft.

“I missed you.” Jim replied, clearing his throat and avoiding the other man’s eyes. He was never any good with his emotions, and he had fucked things up with Seb more times than he cared to remember.  _I don’t deserve you. I'll never deserve you. I'll ruin you._ Sebastian scooted closer to him, and he sighed when he felt rough fingers pull at the short hair at the back of his neck.

“I missed you too.” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Jim back.

 

They stayed there a while, Jim didn't know or care how long, lying on Sebastian’s too-small bed, just holding each other. He realized that his headache had dissolved, and he relaxed even more into the hard mattress. He was trying to memorize Sebastian’s face, his gaze tracing the other man’s features in invisible paint. Sebastian smiled, his eyes tired but soft. Jim’s hands squeezed Sebastian's arms in a too-tight grip when he noticed a drop of blood on the blond's bottom lip.

“You’re bleeding.” he whispered, in wonder, forcing his hands to _let go_ and reaching up to wipe the blood away. Sebastian closed his eyes and pulled Jim closer to him. He felt safe encased in Sebastian's arms, and his eyes started to close with exhaustion.

“I know.” Sebastian said, voice far away.

“What?” Jim asked, his sleepy voice laced with confusion.

“Never mind.” Sebastian assured him quietly, carding his fingers through Jim’s hair until he fell asleep. Jim felt happy for the first time in a year, a smile on his face as he relaxed in Sebastian’s arms.

 

oOo

When Jim woke up, he was expecting to kiss Sebastian awake, to leave decorate his neck with bite marks, to demand that coffee be made. But he was alone. He squinted at the clock. 4:39. He tensed when he sensed movement in the room, and the faint sound of something heavy and metal. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

_**Bang.** _

The gunshot seemed to rock the entire flat, and he panicked, flying from the bed to the light switch.  _Sebastian’s favorite gun._  He tore out of the room to find Seb. He cried out in horror and pain when he saw what had happened. Sebastian was sitting curled up on the floor across the room, looking at him with tired eyes. Lifeless eyes. Tears of blood tricked from his mouth, and Jim began to scream as Sebastian’s life quickly drained out of him to stain the floor.

 

He was still screaming when his eyes flew open, reaching up to grasp the hands that were gently stroking either side of his face. He looked up to Sebastian’s face, terrified. _Holy fuck I_ _haven’t had a nightmare like that in a long time._

“Hey, hey, shhh. It’s okay, Jim, I’m here, shhh, it’s okay. Just another nightmare, love.” he said softly, carefully, soothingly, his tired eyes drowning with worry. Jim slowly relaxed in Sebastian’s grip, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to cal his panicking breath. Sebastian pulled Jim to his chest, wrapping his arms around him in a tight grip. “It’ll be okay.” he whispered.

 

oOo

 

When Jim woke up, he was expecting to feel tired from losing sleep.  _Bloody nightmares._  But he felt fine. His hands softly touched his throat, and he grimaced as a headache began to stab at the back of his head.

“Hey.”

He smiled at the sound of the soft voice in the quiet room. Sebastian was sitting curled up on the floor across the room, looking at him with tired eyes. He shuddered a bit at the sight, shaking his head at an attempt to rid his brain of the nightmare. _It was just a dream. a fucking God-awful dream._  He watched as the other man padded into the kitchen and soon returned with two steaming mugs. They sat and talked about nonsense and sweet nothings in soft voices, Jim simply happy to be with Sebastian.  _He looks worse today._  Sebastian looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes like bruises, and his skin was pale. Jim bit his lip, worrying more and more about his best friend. As he took the mugs into the flat’s tiny kitchen, he spotted the blood on Sebastian’s mug. It shattered on the floor, forgotten, as he ran back to the bedroom.

_**Bang.** _

The gunshot echoed loud in the tiny flat. He threw the door open, tripping over his own feet and landing in a sprawled heap on the floor.  _Sebastian’s favorite gun._  His head snapped up at the sound of the soft chuckle in the quiet room. Sebastian was sitting curled up on the floor across the room, looking at him with tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” he demanded, his voice choked up. He couldn't remember how to breathe. He jerked up, his hands flying to his neck. He flashed back to the feeling of Sebastian's hand closing around his windpipe.

Sebastian squinted down at him in concern.

“Of course.”

“I thought I heard-I mean I thought that-there was a sound-“

“Hey, hey, shhh.” the other man whispered, crossing the room and pulling Jim to the bed. “It’ll be okay.” he said, carding his fingers through Jim’s hair. Jim shook his head, struggling with his panic. _Why do  keep fucking hearing that sound?_ he thought angrily. Sebastian’s lips softly pressed against his own, and he relaxed, sighing and returning the kiss.

“I’m sorry.” Jim said, pulling away.

“It’s okay.”

Jim kissed him again, gasping in shock when he tasted blood. He jerked away from Sebastian, staring.

“You’re bleeding.”

Sebastian looked away. 

“I know.”

“What the _fuck_ is going on here, Seb? Why is your mouth bleeding? Why did I have a nightmare where saw you fucking  _shoot yourself?_ ”

Sebastian sighed and stood up, crossing the room away from Jim.

“You didn't see it happen.”

“...What?”  _What the hell is he on about?_

“You weren't here when that happened. You didn't actually see it.”

“What the fuck is that suppo—”

“I had to watch you die, remember?” Seb interrupted, voice suddenly full of poison, of anger, of sorrow.

Jim blinked. He had forgotten.  _Fuck._

“I was forced to watch as my best friend put _my gun_ in his mouth and fucking _shoot himself_. After you _fucking promised me_ that you were okay” 

_S_ _ebastian’s favorite_ _gun_ , Jim thought. Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“But I didn’t die!”

“But I _didn't fucking know that_ , did I? Christ!” Sebastian hissed, scrubbing a hand down his face and peering at Jim with tired eyes. He coughed, once, twice, thrice, and drops of blood began to trickle from his mouth.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jim whispered. Sebastian's eyes softened, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You can’t help me, love.”

“Why not?” he demanded. He couldn't meet Seb's eyes, because they were locked on the smear of blood on his knuckles. He felt the familiar headache needling its way into his brain.

“I’m not here.” Came the hushed reply.

“What?!" he asked in shock, eyes finding Sebastian's at last.

“I’m not actually here, James.”

“Don’t be a fuckin' idiot. I can see you.”

Sebastian shook his head, looking like he was going to break into pieces.

“Yes, I know.” He began to cough again, sagging against the wall, slipping to the floor, spitting blood from his mouth.

Jim touched his eyes, blinking angrily at the tears his fingers found.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, his voice anguished.

“I shot myself a year after you died.” Sebastian whispered.

Jim stared at him, unbelieving. Sebastian was sitting curled up on the floor across the room, looking at him with tired eyes. He tried again when Jim didn't answer him.

“I’m not here, James. I’m dead.”

“No.”

“Jim, I-“

“ _No_.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

“No. Don’t you  _fucking_  dare.”

Sebastian smiled at him, stained red.

“I love you.”

 

oOo

 

When Jim awoke, he was expecting to see his best friend dead on the floor. He was expecting to scream at the sight of Sebastian’s limp body. He was expecting to see Sebastian sitting curled up on the floor across the room, looking at him with tired eyes.

But he was alone. He closed his eyes and shoved his hand underneath the mattress, seeking something cold, something heavy, something metal.  _Sebastian’s favorite gun._  He stared at it in his hands, wondering how long he'd been here, how he'd gotten here, and how he'd managed to fall asleep. The pistol was clean, and bright, and gleaming, not one scratch or blemish or bit of rust. Rust reminded Jim of the taste of blood. He licked along the shiny barrel, and could taste Sebastian as a headache pierced the back of his head. The only thing he could manage to think before he pulled the trigger was  _I love you too, Tyger._

_**Bang.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit I reread this as I was posting it and I'm actually really proud of it.
> 
> Thank you if you read!


End file.
